


Walter's Day Off

by Azurite9925



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Bloodlust, Gen, Mini Enrico, Pre-Canon, Walter has a dark side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azurite9925/pseuds/Azurite9925
Summary: Walter takes a mission to... stretch his legs, per se. On the way, he happens to cross catholic lands and meets an old foe





	Walter's Day Off

**Walter’s Night Off**

_Warning -- OOC!Walter. I always perceived Walter as a bit less mentally stable as he came off as, and this entire tale is a little plot bunny about the warhawk within Walter..._

 

_“Walter… are you sure about this? It’s been a long time.” Integra hesitantly asked. She wrung her hands with her long skirt, biting her lower lip as her blue eyes gazed Walter’s form._

_“Sir Integra, I have no concerns whatsoever. My age has nothing to do with my physical ability.” Walter stated, amused by his charge’s concern. The little Hellsing heir had only been in the office for a few months now - most of the financial accounts were being handled by Walter, and the most dire of mission directions by Lord Penwood himself. The little girl had until 16 to learn everything, for then she would have to, whether she was ready or not._

_“But… I’m worried.” She said, suddenly feeling rather small._

_“I’m touched, my Lady,” Walter softly replied, knowing that his master would, in any other scenario, have legitimate concerns about sending a 60 year old butler to take care of vampires. He, however, was the Angel of Death - that changed a few things. “But I shall fare just fine without Alucard. Let me handle this band of ruffians. It’s in northern Ireland, it will take me hardly a night to slay them and return.”_

 

Hardly a night indeed. Walter wasn’t sure how long he had been out of Hellsing Manor for, but by Jove, he felt wonderful. Sitting with his back against a tree among the corpses of the various dead vampires and ghouls, Walter’s face broke into a smile. It had been _years_ since his last kills, which had been during a mission to suppress any remnants of the last World War. While he wasn’t a vampire or any other supernatural creature, there was something deeply satisfying in murdering things. Although Walter was now trained otherwise, it used to be the only thing he knew how to do. Perhaps that is why his younger self worked so well with Alucard.

His poor master must have been concerned, seeing Walter’s old age as a hindrance to any sort of physical mission, but the little 13 year old girl didn’t realize just what sort of monstrous things both him and Alucard had done, back in the day. Walter was under no guise that he was a good person - but damn, did evil feel good. He missed being on the front lines, missed fighting, cause or no cause.

Not that he disliked his work at Hellsing - he had grown fond of his charge and the rather immense library - but there was a certain dullness to it. Integra’s father had been a rather violent man - albeit, only fierce to his enemies, unlike his filthy brother - who took care of his enemies by himself, leaving Walter to care for the late Lady Hellsing and Integra for the last 20 years. Before that, Walter wasn’t a high enough servant to warrant more than housework. He hated those days. Alucard was his only friend, back then.

Some days, he wondered if it was still the case now.

Walter dragged himself to his feet and began collecting the diamond wire, a soft, lazy smile on his lips. He’d have to wash the weapon later, of course, but at least it wasn’t another dusting. Oh, how Walter hated dusting his weapons! Nothing taunted his spirits so.

He began to walk down the pathway, closing his eyes for a moment just to enjoy the scent of pine trees and blood. It really _had_ been in a while. Walter began to hum under his breath, his smile growing again as he suddenly felt rather childish. And rather invincible, in one of the ways his younger self occasionally felt. He could take on anything!

“Angel.” Walter turned at the sound, arching a brow. Who could possibly be visiting an abandoned warehouse in the forest? The only structure nearby was a catholic orphanage.

Walter arched an eyebrow. Alexander Anderson, apparently. Perhaps… he couldn’t take on everything. “Judas Priest. How are you?” Walter politely asked. Sure, in his teens he was a tad pretentious and very very rude, but that didn’t justify atrocious manners now. Of course, the butler was confused - why would the Iscariot be here? He hadn’t done a damn thing.

“Yer fightin on Catholic lands. I saw the bodies.” Anderson continued, unamused by Walter’s polite pretences. Walter arched an eyebrow.

“According to our treaty, encroachment on Catholic land in any part of the UK doesn’t matter if I came here for a Hellsing mission. I came here to destroy these monsters. I have finished my mission. I hold no quarrel with you.” Walter slowly said. Walter wasn’t stupid enough to fight, even if the more violent, younger part of him was ready to - Alexander Anderson wasn’t fully human, and was incredibly skilled in what he did. Walter wouldn’t escape a fight without at least a limb lost.

The priest nodded slowly. “Perhaps, but must ya be so close to the orphanage? I ‘ave -”

“Father!”

The two turned to where the outburst came from, the pathway towards the orphanage, and saw a rather peculiar sight. A young lad, perhaps a tad younger than Integra, with silver hair to his shoulders, pale, porcelain skin, and luminous violet eyes, jogged over to Father Anderson in his plain brown robes, seemingly oblivious to Walter. Anderson moved to pull the child close to him, eyeing Walter with a hidden threat. _Hurt him and you will not leave here alive._ Walter was in no mood to do anything of the sort, so he tipped his head in concession and stepped away from the duo and into the shadows.

“Just what do ya think you’re doing here? Just because I let ya come with me to visit Heinkel up here da’n’t mean yer exempt from the rules.” Anderson sternly spoke. The boy look chastised for merely a moment before continuing to vibrate with energy. “Before ya explode, tell me why yer here.” The priest said, a bit softer.

The young boy brightened considerably, making the corner of Walter’s lips twitch in amusement. The boy was practically an open book. Then, however, a shadow passed upon his face, as he remembered what he wanted to ask. “Father… is it true that my parents abandoned me because of… my condition?” He hesitantly asked.

Father Anderson froze, his faint smile dimming. He sighed and shook his head. “Ya shou’n’t listen ta that. Yer an Albino, nothin’ more. Yer a perfectly good lad.” He lowly said. “Who told ya such lies?”

The boy shook his head vigorously. “I’m not telling. But… it’s okay to be albino?” he hesitantly asked, looking up at the Father through his bangs. Father Anderson’s scowl deepened, but his voice was not harsh.

“Yer a good lad, Enrico. Serve God with yer whole self. God do’n’t care about yer skin color or hair color - only yer service.” Anderson reassured the boy. The boy seemed pensive for a moment before sighing.

“That’s not enough, Father.” He murmured, but didn’t continue on. Anderson sighed and placed one of his large hands on Enrico’s slender shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Walter, deciding that he had quite enough with the sentimentality, coughed, catching both of the Catholics’ attentions. Smiling thinly, he spoke, “If there’s nothing more to be discussed, I shall be on my way, Father Anderson. My attire is certainly not suitable enough to host the Penwoods for brunch this coming morning, so I mustn’t dally.”

Alexander Anderson seemed like he wanted to say something, but Enrico tugged on the man’s robes before could speak. “Yes?”

“Er… who is that?” Enrico stage whispered. Walter suppressed a smile.

“He’s part o’the Hellsin’ Organization. They’re like the Iscariot, but Protestant heathens protecting the English crown.” Anderson explained. The boy cocked his head, silently asking for more information. “Don ya worry about it.” Anderson reassured.

“I’m Walter C Dornez, Lady Integra Hellsing’s right hand and butler.” Walter introduced himself. The corner of Anderson’s lips twitched in amusement, causing the butler’s mood to instantly darken. He arched a delicate, raven brow. “Is there anything I said to your amusement, Father Anderson?” He softly asked.

The father shook his head, chuckling. “Yer sire’s a child. Yer crown has a bloody child leadin’ an army. Filthy heathens.” he murmured. Walter’s lips twitched.

“Integra is no child. She has been bred for her position since her birth, and when she reaches her knightship in a few short years, she will be nothing short of a formidable foe, especially to those in the Iscariot.” Walter said.

Enrico seemed to bristle at that. “Nothing’s greater than the Iscariot! Especially not some protestant sow!” He declared.

If Walter had been a teen, he would have decked the brat. Now, however, he simply smiled darkly. “Hardly, Enrico.” he purred. “The Hellsing Organization was and is the only check on the Vatican’s nearly unlimited power. Our work have been essential, in the last 100 years.”

Enrico huffed and crossed his arms. “Hellsing is nothing.”

All the while, Anderson was watching the exchange with a mild amount of bemusement. Enrico was rather silly and the butler only sillier for indulging a mere child. “Angel, it’s yer time ta go.” He spoke. The butler nodded and tipped his head towards the duo before beginning to leave again, towards the town a mile away.

“Father Anderson.”

The good father looked down and met his charge’s suddenly intense eyes. “Yes?”

“Hellsing will fall one day. _Nothing_ can possibly surpass the Iscariot.” He murmured.

Anderson silently placed a hand on the small of Enrico’s back and began to lead him towards the orphanage. The boy had much to learn about the world. Especially a little bit about the vampire/human duo that served as Hellsing’s prime killing machine, back in World War II.


End file.
